Features
Sri Lanka’s Dry Zone; a Misnomer, and its repercussions
By Dr. J. Handawela
jameshandawela@gmail.com
Background
Since Independence the key development policy pursued by the Lankan government has been large scale irrigated paddy farming in the Dry zone (DZ), in the hope of ushering in the same prosperity of its past, particularly the Parakramabahu era (1153-1186). Perakum Yugayak Nevathath Arambaw was a widely flown rhetoric. However, even by about 1985, when the much banked on mighty Mahaweli irrigation project was almost complete, there were no clear signs of the expecte prosperity ever dawning, prompting some citizens to feel skeptical about the whole approach followed to develop the DZ, and thereby the country. I am one of them and see the reason for it as the authorities considering the DZ as being plagued by dryness, farming there requiring additional water as an external input.
In 1994, after leaving formal employment bound to the government, opportunities came on my way to gain a clearer understanding of the DZ’s climate, particularly its implications on agriculture on DZ land. These opportunities, experienced for the first time in my career life as a student of soil science, took me into remote parts of the DZ, spared by the bulldozer that had ripped off DZ’s land to launch major paddy irrigation schemes in all peripheral DZ districts. There, I could see signs of a range of traditional land development measures applied to enable farming, both in a ruined state and in live form. Where it was live, I saw the environment and life there being pleasantly close to nature and safe and sound unlike in major paddy irrigation project lands I had been long accustomed to.
Excitement caused by seeing them evoked an interest in me to seek authentic knowledge on social and farming history of DZ, over and above genuine praise showered on it by local senior farmers. I read Mahawansa and writings of R.L. Brohier, Robert Knox, Leonard Woolf, Emerson Tennent , D L O Mendis, M.S. Randhawa etc., all for the first time in my life, deeply regretting not having read them before.
Following is a gist of what I learned, much of which newly.
Traditional DZ farming has been heavily reliant on local rainfall, received during the main rainy season from October to December and the minor one in April. It has been a highly successful habitat development and farming enterprise.
It has been crucial for it to commence with the onset of rain in October, not only because it broke the four month long rainless weather but also to benefit from the atmospheric character in October over the area which is highly favourable for seed germination and plant growth. The latter reason is implicit in the Sinhala term for October, Vap, which means (time for) seed sowing. Of the two types of crop fields the farmers had: upland Hena and lowland paddy plot, where the farmers first rushed to with the onset of rain was the former for obvious reasons, letting the latter wait until it had also received some runoff and seepage water from adjacent upland and become fully water secure for a crop of paddy.
Though much welcome, the seasonal rain is often too harsh for direct use, as it is, for cropping. Its high intensity causing soil erosion and heavy rains falling over two to three straight days causing flood need to be addressed, and the impacts mitigated and overcome. For that the farmers had chosen individual small watersheds which offered a suitable land base to confront rain, tame its harshness and harness its water for farming, all within their confines. This enabled hazard free farming when it rained and where it rained, without having to forego early rainy time from the cropping calendar or to provide for undue storage and transmission (water) losses we hear of in conventional irrigation.
Specific rain water management measures applied within small watersheds are earthen bunds falling into four types: (1) slender long strips of bund (Wetiya) on the upper aspects of the watershed to delay runoff build-up and slow down runoff flow rate, (2) gulley plugs across transient stream channels to hold up water as water holes ( Wala), (3) further down the stream channel, bunds to hold relatively larger volumes of water Wila and at the very bottom of the small watershed, a larger and stronger bund to hold even more water, both on land surface and in the ground around and beneath it Wewa. All four devices have provision for surplus water to flow out, without hurting the bunds.
Worth reiterating, the unique land layout of the small watershed provides the ideal physical landscape structure to apply the above mentioned measures to delay runoff initiation, slow down runoff flow, check soil erosion and give more time for water to seep into the soil and the ground below, particularly in association with Wewa. They enable commencing upland cropping with early rains, growing of crops fully relying on local rainwater, and equally importantly, generating a ground water resource from rain water.
Crop production could be extended beyond October-December rainy season by choosing crops adapted to lower soil moisture conditions. In some years, it could extend to link up with shorter duration April rains, enabling a cropping period of about eight months. Farmers grew a variety of crops producing a basket of food staples (not only rice) for year round use. The ground water resource generated saw them through the rain water scarce months June-September. All these, thanks to judicious management of rain water, on time and in-situ.
Above observations point to the realization that the wet seasons, October- December and April deserve full credit as characterizing the climate of the DZ, adding value to it and making their beneficial effects felt through the whole climatic year: crops from October- May and ground water, year round.
What matters most is the wisdom the ancient farmers had to understanding that the DZ was wet, at least adequately and not full scale dry. Perhaps it is this wisdom that had brought prosperity to the area, at a time when irrigated paddy farming was little known, prior to initiation of Rajarata kingdom, as reported by archaeaologists Roland Silva and Shiran Deraniyagala ,separately.
Look at the successful farming enterprise in Jaffna, which is even less wet than the inland DZ but manages with local rain, with no need for extraneous water. The reason behind is natural shallow aquifers, which store surplus rain water as a ready source of water for farmer use during the dry months. This makes Jaffna not lament over dryness but appreciate and enjoy its wetness. Ancient DZ farmers, whose soil was less porous to take in rain water and had no natural aquifers, had overcome those limitations by giving more time for rain water to seep into their soil of low porosity and creating an artificial ground water storage facility in association with Wewa in the farmed small watershed.
By the way the term Wewa, being a derivative from “Wapi” – Sanskrit term for water- well, is not a spring or a source of water for flood irrigating a downstream crop as many of us take it to be. It in Sri Lanka is a well of some sort that has created its own ground water support base. In Gujarat, India where the very term Wew is in use, it refers to large wells dug into deep ground water, and they are for community use and habitat enrichment and categorically not for irrigation.
What is stated above is an ideal transcending from my personal experience and observations on a topic of interest and concern to me. Key inferences possible from it are that the climate of DZ is more wet than dry, the ancient farmers saw it in correct perspective and made a success of it, but the modern DZ developers have caught the wrong end of the stick. I want to share these thoughts with like minded researchers with a view to reassessing our current knowledge and understanding of DZ’s climate and its bearing on farming on its land. Emphasize that this is not a simple matter to shrug off but to be concerned with as a real issue with serious repercussions.
DZ ; a misnomer
For an area to be called dry its potential evapotranspiration over the year must exceed annual average rainfall. On this account the Sri Lanka’s DZ is not dry. Though not as wet as the Wet Zone, its annual average rainfall of about 1500 mm is only 25% less than the lower end annual rainfall figure for the Wet Zone, making it 75% as wet as the latter, and hence not its exact opposite.
This rain, though somewhat limited to four months, October – December and April, its residual effect is long lasting rendering the whole period from October to May quite wet during which its evergreen natural vegetation, symbolic of wet environments, not showing any major sign of withering. This leaves only four months June- September with a semblance of dryness.
DZ’s relief with soft contours shows that what has shaped its terrain is wetness and not dryness. In dry environments the contours are rugged.
Common climate related hazards in the area are soil erosion by runoff and damage to crop, property and even death by drowning by flooding, all of them problems associated with wet environments. Drought related incidents like forest fires, heat waves, death from desiccation etc. are very rare.
Most visitors to Sri Lanka see it as a green island. They would not say so if they saw two thirds of its land which make up the DZ as dry.All these point to DZ’s climate being more wet than dry, with the wet months October-December showing up as its most characteristic and hence the climate defining season, affirming that the term DZ is a misnomer for the area referred to by it.
Repercussions
The modern developers, who chose to focus on DZ’s dryness which is a mere negativity – deficiency of water – as its diagnostic character and the key limitation to its development over its wetness, which is a positivity – abundance of much desired water, though fraught with risks which however could be overcome by judicious management as discussed above – may not have foreseen its serious repercussions. The more serious of them are;
Spurning of DZ’s wetness-reliant traditional farming, which is a unique system of indigenously evolved watershed farming as being primitive, destructive on forest etc. denying it policy support and access to new scientific knowledge on modern farming has led to its degeneration and extinction with no prospect for its survival. This is a clear case of elimination and eradication of a valued heritage.
A key component of the above system of farming is Hena farming, It has been singled out and unjustifiably blacklisted as being utterly destructive on forest, more strictly subjected to severely restrictive regulations against its practice. Dereliction of such a farming system, that is so well adapted to the DZ environment and when wisely practiced is not only productive but also supportive of local ecology can lead to its extinction.
Overemphasis on dryness focused farming has led to excessive forest clearing to make provision for accumulation and application of water as an external farm input has also led to supply shortages of local timber, locally grown non-rice foods, rapid decline in forest cover, worsening human- elephant conflict etc.
Most farmers provided with water for free as an external input too fall into the category of state subsidy dependent population, casting doubts as to whether they are net producers relative to heavy investment made on them and ecosystem sacrificed to support them. Statistical records show that contribution made to GDP from districts where such farming is widespread is very low.
In the DZ drainage system, primary valleys are the source points of stream water. When their wet weather hydrology is properly managed for wetness-reliant farming, downstream flooding gets mitigated. This helps downstream land use. Modern management measures designed on the basis that the DZ is dry consider upstream small watersheds as unworthy of management and best left as mere catchments to extract water, without involving them even as stakeholders in rain water harnessing. Its repercussions are increased downstream flood hazard during rain and worsened water scarcity during dry weather, particularly in drier years.
Modern dryness-focused farming need time to accumulate and store runoff water in reservoirs, during which farming is not possible. Farming time thus lost is the month of October, which amounts to the most favourable time for crop establishment (Vap) being lost to farming, utter loss of once in a year opportunity.
All these repercussions are due to trying to adapt to dryness, to fill a deficiency gap, to eliminate a negativity. Instead, if the effort had been directed to dwelling on the main rainy season, banking on its positivities: abundance of water, favourable atmospheric character in October for crop establishment, they may have been avoided. Whether the culprit behind this mishap is the term DZ warrants attention.
Recently UN Climatologists Have come out with a clear assertion, that of the two extreme climatic incidents, namely drought and flood, experienced in a given environment, what really needs to be overcome is flood hazard while drought is a problem that could and should be endured instead of struggling to deal with it. It appears that the ancient DZ farmers had followed it centuries ago.
Conclusion
In conclusion let me present a relevant case study extracted from a newspaper article. Thanthirimale in Anuradhapura district has been a traditional farming village where local rain had been well utilized for farming. It had a system of well managed upstream watersheds and a downstream Wewa, and paddy lands below it. This was modernized in 1950s, by letting the upstream watersheds go into abandonment to merely serve/sub-serve as unmanaged water catchment area for the downstream Wewa, which was widened and capacity increased to provide irrigation water to an expanded paddy acreage below it, now not mainly for the customary Maha season but also for the Yala season as well (hopefully).
A knowledgeable senior farmer there says that prior to modernization the community there raised a variety of crops with rain, had adequate food and enough of forest products including timber, seldom faced floods or drinking water scarcity. After modernization, food production got limited to paddy farming below the Wewa, flooding became more frequent and intense because the upstream area had no control over its runoff water. Water stress during dry months, particularly in less wet years, became more acute because all land upstream of the Wewa no longer subscribed to local ground water resource development.
He says the current system that focuses on mitigating (a seeming) drought is less effective than the traditional system which made the most out of the wetness of the rainy season by slowing down water loss as runoff, mitigating local flooding, commencing cropping at the very beginning (Vap) of the rainy season and continued even beyond the rainy season, and saving a share of water as ground water in every small watershed in and around their Wew. In addition it mitigated downstream flooding during times of very high rainfall and also enabled a better dry weather base flow in the stream that left the area.Therefore, it appears that the term DZ has given a distorted meaning to the climate of the so called DZ and misled the modern day DZ developers. An issue that deserves scientific attention.
(The author has been a researcher attached to the Department of Agriculture from 1968-1994 and thereafter an independent researcher. Holds B.Sc (Agriculture) degree from Peradeniya University and Ph.D. (Agriculture) from Kyoto University, Japan.)
Features
Tusker Kavantissa’s death exposes Sri Lanka’s wildlife conservation crisis
by Prof. Ranjith Bandara,
Emeritus Professor, University of Colombo
This article examines why community exclusion, excessive bureaucratic control, unequal distribution of conservation benefits, weak institutional accountability, and short-sighted political leadership continue to undermine wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka.
The death of Tusker Kavantissa is more than the loss of one of Sri Lanka’s most remarkable wild elephants. It exposes uncomfortable questions about how we protect our natural heritage, how conservation decisions are made, and why repeated warnings have failed to produce meaningful reforms. His death should compel us to examine not only what happened to one extraordinary animal, but also the deeper weaknesses in our wildlife conservation system.
Tusker Kavantissa, one of Sri Lanka’s most prominent wild tuskers, died on 16 October, 2026, after receiving veterinary treatment for an injury, reportedly caused by gunfire. Although the wound had shown some improvement, his health subsequently deteriorated. The precise cause of death requires confirmation through a proper post-mortem examination. Nevertheless, the circumstances raise serious questions about preventive protection, wildlife management, and institutional preparedness.
The wider picture is equally disturbing. According to recently reported figures, Sri Lanka has lost an average of approximately 402 elephants and 138 people annually, since 2019, due to human–elephant conflict. These figures reflect a continuing national tragedy affecting both wildlife and rural communities.
What Sri Lanka faces today is not merely a wildlife conservation problem. It is also a crisis of environmental governance, shaped by institutional weaknesses, political decisions, and the failure to recognise the economic and social realities of conservation.
Conservation without communities
One of the fundamental weaknesses of our conservation approach is that local communities are often treated as subjects of regulation rather than partners in conservation. They are expected to bear the risks, respect restrictions, and cooperate with government programmes, yet their influence over decisions affecting their lives remains limited.
For rural families living alongside wild elephants, conservation is not an abstract environmental objective. It directly affects their safety, agricultural income, property, and everyday lives.
Farmers frequently possess valuable knowledge about elephant movements, vulnerable locations, seasonal changes, and practical protection measures. Yet conservation interventions are sometimes designed without adequately considering this experience.
When decisions are imposed from above, communities may feel excluded from programmes they are expected to support. This weakens trust, reduces cooperation, and ultimately undermines conservation outcomes.
We must recognise that protecting elephants and protecting farmers are not conflicting objectives. Both are essential. A conservation policy that safeguards wildlife while neglecting human security cannot be considered successful.
The real challenge is to replace conservation imposed on communities with conservation undertaken alongside them. Meaningful participation requires more than consultation meetings. Communities must have a genuine role in planning, implementing, monitoring, and evaluating conservation activities.
Bureaucratic authority versus public accountability
Wildlife conservation requires strong institutions, professional expertise, and effective regulations. However, excessive bureaucratic control can become an obstacle when administrative authority takes precedence over practical outcomes.
Decision-making in Sri Lanka’s conservation system remains heavily dependent on central institutions. Administrative procedures, overlapping responsibilities, and limited coordination can delay responses to urgent problems.
More importantly, excessive centralisation can discourage local innovation and prevent communities from contributing practical solutions.
When administrative authority becomes more important than results, conservation risks becoming an exercise in controlling people rather than protecting nature.
This criticism should not be confused with questioning the dedication of frontline wildlife officers and veterinarians. Many work under difficult conditions with limited resources. The efforts undertaken to save Tusker Kavantissa deserve recognition.
However, individual commitment cannot compensate indefinitely for institutional weaknesses.
We must ask whether our conservation institutions have the capacity to identify risks early, protect vulnerable animals, coordinate emergency responses, and evaluate the effectiveness of their interventions.
Public accountability should, therefore, extend beyond compliance with administrative procedures to measurable conservation outcomes.
Who bears costs, and who receives benefits?
Perhaps the most neglected dimension of wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka is the unequal distribution of its economic costs and benefits.
Wild elephants contribute substantially to tourism, biodiversity, cultural heritage, and the country’s international image. Their conservation generates benefits enjoyed by society as a whole.
Yet the financial and personal costs are concentrated among rural communities living within elephant habitats.
A study published in 2023, involving 300 farming households in southern Sri Lanka, revealed a striking imbalance. Although these households lived near two national parks, none received economic benefits from tourism. Meanwhile, 57 percent had experienced elephant-related crop damage.
The findings raise a fundamental economic question: if the entire country benefits from elephant conservation, why should a relatively small and vulnerable section of society bear a disproportionate share of its costs?
Conservation cannot remain economically sustainable when its benefits are widely enjoyed but its costs are concentrated among those least able to bear them.
A separate study, published in 2024, involving 439 affected farming households, examined the possibility of financing compensation through tourism revenue. It demonstrated the potential for tourism-based financial mechanisms to support human–elephant coexistence.
The policy implications are significant
A proportion of wildlife tourism revenue could be directed towards affected communities through transparent benefit-sharing arrangements. Such measures could support compensation, village protection, local employment, community enterprises, and agricultural improvements.
However, financial compensation alone is insufficient. The 2023 study also indicated that fear of elephants and concerns about crop damage strongly influenced community attitudes. People must feel safe in their homes and farms, not merely receive payment after suffering losses.
Equitable benefit-sharing is, therefore, more than an act of generosity. It is an economic and social requirement for sustainable conservation.
Political decisions and absence of long-term vision
The weaknesses in wildlife conservation cannot be attributed solely to public officials. Political leadership must accept its share of responsibility.
Poor land-use planning, habitat fragmentation, obstruction of elephant movement corridors, and development decisions that inadequately consider environmental consequences have contributed to human–elephant conflict.
Political decisions made for immediate gains can create environmental and economic costs lasting for decades.
Another weakness is the preference for visible, short-term interventions.
Constructing electric fences, relocating elephants, and launching emergency operations can attract considerable publicity. However, such interventions should be evaluated according to their effectiveness, not their visibility.
Political leadership should be judged not by the number of conservation programmes announced, but by the lives protected, conflicts prevented, and long-term improvements achieved.
There is also a serious problem of policy continuity. Conservation cannot be governed according to electoral cycles or changing political priorities.
Elephant habitats, migration patterns, and ecological processes do not change with governments. Successful conservation, therefore, requires consistent national commitments extending beyond individual political administrations.
Without such continuity, public investment may be wasted while the underlying problems remain unresolved.
Problem is not always a lack of policy
Sri Lanka’s conservation crisis cannot be explained simply by a shortage of scientific knowledge or policy recommendations.
In many instances, the greater challenge lies in translating available knowledge into coordinated, adequately funded, and politically supported action.
The National Action Plan for the Mitigation of Human–Elephant Conflict, prepared in 2020, proposed a science-based approach that emphasised community participation, protection of villages and agricultural land, and more effective conflict-management strategies.
Yet an important question remains: how much of this plan has been implemented successfully?
Have implementation difficulties arisen from inadequate resources, weak institutional coordination, administrative resistance, or insufficient political commitment?
An independent assessment of the plan’s implementation would help identify these obstacles and establish clear responsibilities.
We must also recognise that a substantial proportion of Sri Lanka’s wild elephants live outside protected areas. Attempting to confine all elephants within national parks and forest reserves is, therefore, neither realistic nor sustainable.
Effective conservation requires land-use policies informed by elephant ecology, settlement patterns, agricultural needs, and the practical realities of human–wildlife coexistence.
A sound policy that remains largely unimplemented offers little protection to either elephants or people.
Towards more responsible conservation system
Sri Lanka needs a fundamental change in how wildlife conservation is governed.
Four priorities deserve immediate attention.
First, local communities must become genuine partners in conservation management, with meaningful responsibilities and decision-making opportunities.
Second, conservation benefits must be distributed more fairly. Wildlife tourism should contribute directly to protecting the livelihoods and safety of communities that bear conservation costs.
Third, existing national conservation plans should be independently reviewed to identify implementation gaps and establish a realistic timetable for corrective action.
Fourth, conservation institutions must become more accountable for measurable outcomes, including reductions in human deaths, elephant mortality, crop losses, and property damage.
These reforms require cooperation among wildlife, forestry, agriculture, land, irrigation, and local government institutions.
They also demand political leadership willing to prioritise long-term results over short-term publicity.
For exceptional animals, such as Tusker Kavantissa, improved risk monitoring, preventive protection, and timely veterinary responses are particularly important. However, conservation should not be limited to protecting a few well-known animals.
Every wild elephant has ecological value, just as every person living alongside elephants has an equal right to safety.
The objective must be a system that protects both.
Lesson tusker Kavantissa leaves behind
The death of Tusker Kavantissa should not become another moment of national sorrow that gradually fades from public memory. It should mark a turning point in how Sri Lanka approaches wildlife conservation.
A proper investigation into his death is essential. Equally important is an honest examination of the conservation system within which such tragedies continue to occur.
The real challenge is not choosing between people and elephants. It is creating a system in which both can coexist safely, and where the responsibilities, costs, and benefits of conservation are shared fairly.
This requires more than scientific expertise and stronger regulations. It demands accountable institutions, meaningful community participation, economic fairness, and political leadership guided by a clear long-term vision.
Our greatest failure would not be the loss of Tusker Kavantissa alone. It would be allowing the same weaknesses in our conservation system to claim more lives while we continue to avoid the reforms that could prevent them.
Features
Equality before the Law as foundation of Sri Lanka’s recovery
by Jehan Perera
The government appears set to overcome the first major challenge to one of its foundational principles. It has faced down demands from sections of the Buddhist clergy and opposition parties to release Ven. Galagodaatte Gnanasara from his prison sentence for contempt of court.
Ven Gnanasara is best known as the general secretary of the Bodu Bala Sena, a nationalist Sinhala grouping. The government seemed unfazed by a protest march organised by Buddhist monks and the opposition parties and its supporters organised an even bigger march to support the government’s position. It is notable that the general population did not get involved in either march in any substantial number. The issue has now become a test of whether the government will uphold its commitment to apply the law equally, irrespective of a person’s position or status, even when doing so brings it into conflict with a powerful constituency.
The case has a specific legal history. Ven. Gnanasara was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment by the Court of Appeal in 2018 for contempt of court in a case involving former military personnel where he disrupted the proceedings. The Supreme Court rejected his appeal in 2018. Former President Maithripala Sirisena subsequently granted him a presidential pardon in 2019. Last month, the Supreme Court invalidated that pardon. The initial demand by Buddhist monks and their lay supporters was that Ven. Gnanasara should be permitted to wear his Buddhist robes when appearing in public before the courts. The government has indicated its willingness to examine the procedures governing the treatment of Buddhist monks in prison, in consultation with the relevant religious authorities. However, the initial demand has now been escalated into a demand for a presidential pardon.
One of the central promises of the National People’s Power (NPP) during its election campaign two years ago was to apply the law equally to all. This commitment has shaped the government’s approach to allegations of corruption and criminality involving individuals who previously wielded political power. The NPP government was swept into power on a wave of antipathy towards those in previous governments who were perceived to have abused their positions for private gain. The economic collapse Sri Lanka experienced in 2022, and the hardships endured across society, remain vivid in the public memory. The past two years have seen the government pursuing those accused of corruption and other offences. Several high-ranking members of previous governments have faced arrest and legal proceedings and been sentenced to jail.
Religious Concerns
The ability of opposition parties to mobilise widespread resistance against proceedings involving their leaders has been limited, as much of the general population continues to favour accountability for past financial crimes. However, the case of Ven. Gnanasara is different. It does not concern allegations of financial corruption, but the relationship between religious authority, the courts and the law of the land. This is where the distinction between respecting religious traditions and upholding the law becomes crucial. There is a sense among sections of the general population that Buddhist monks should not be treated on a par with others and that requiring Ven. Gnanasara to appear in court without his robes was unjust and contrary to the national ethos. Such sentiments reflect the special place Buddhism occupies in Sri Lanka’s history and society. Sinhala Buddhist nationalism has been a potent political force throughout the country’s history, drawing on a heritage that extends back more than two millennia. The question is whether respect for Buddhism needs to also entail the exemption of individual monks from the ordinary requirements of the law and thereby treat them differently.
The challenge would be to accommodate legitimate religious concerns through rational and lawful procedures without allowing religious status to become a source of legal privilege. The government has been amenable to addressing the issue of monastic robes, but has so far resisted the demand to release Ven. Gnanasara through a new pardon. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and government members have made it clear that the government would not bend the law to accommodate any individual. They have taken the position that any shortcomings in existing rules should be addressed by changing the rules through proper procedures, rather than by making an exception for a particular individual. If the government holds its position, it will demonstrate that its commitment to the rule of law extends even to constituencies that have historically enjoyed considerable political influence.
This is important not only for the country’s democratic institutions but also for its economic future. Sri Lanka is seeking to recover from its economic collapse and establish the foundations for sustained growth. The International Monetary Fund’s analysis of Sri Lanka’s governance weaknesses has repeatedly emphasised the economic costs of corruption and institutional deficiencies. Its 2024 analysis of governance and growth concluded that comprehensive and coherent reforms could bring significant macroeconomic benefits. The IMF’s 2025 assessment also highlighted the importance of sustained governance reforms in unlocking the country’s growth potential. Investors, both domestic and foreign, need confidence that public institutions function according to predictable rules, that contracts and property rights are protected, and that political connections or social status will not determine how the law is applied.
Sensitive Issue
Sri Lanka has long sought the leap towards prosperity that has proved elusive under successive governments. Economic reform alone will not achieve it. The connection between the rule of law and economic prosperity is direct. Businesses are more likely to invest when they can expect disputes to be resolved fairly, public resources to be managed transparently and regulatory decisions to be made on rational grounds. No country can achieve a durable economic take-off if its institutions are perceived to operate according to political favour, inherited privilege or communal pressure. Sri Lanka cannot afford to return to a political culture in which powerful interests are shielded from accountability while ordinary citizens bear the costs.
Changing a political culture that has evolved over the decades if not centuries is a difficult undertaking, particularly in a country where political leaders have long relied on religious and communal identities to consolidate their support. It requires not only firmness but also sensitivity, dialogue and a willingness to reform laws and institutions where genuine deficiencies exist. The present controversy offers an opportunity to demonstrate that these objectives need not be in conflict. The government can respect the Buddhist clergy’s concerns about the treatment of monks in prison while refusing to grant an individual an exemption from a judicial sentence. It can recognise the importance of Buddhism to the country while maintaining that no religious or political authority stands above the law.
The question is whether national traditions and ethos are interpreted in ways that strengthen justice, responsibility and social harmony, or invoked to defend privileges that undermine them. The country needs a transformation in public expectations from privilege to accountability, from communal claims to equal citizenship, and from personal discretion to institutions governed by law.
The government’s handling of the case involving Ven. Gnanasara is therefore about more than one monk or one sentence. This particular case will determine whether the government can build a system in which no government, religious authority or politically influential individuals can place themselves beyond the law. A just society must be able to honour both its traditions and its commitment to equality before the law.
Features
Lure of old hometown too hard to resist
Lanka was his homeland, and now it’s Australia, based in Sydney. But for legendary performer Roger Menezes, the lure of his old hometown is just too hard to resist — and he keeps coming this way, ever so often!
Roger is in town at the moment — his fourth trip for this year alone! In fact, for the last few years, he has been checking out Sri Lanka on a very frequent basis.
This time, he says, he will be here for just two weeks, as he has heavy commitments, Down Under, as a performer.
On the 24th of this month, he will be seen in action at Broadway Dehiwela, celebrating their second anniversary. It’s a homecoming of sorts, as he was the very first artiste to perform live at this venue, on their opening night!
He goes back to Sydney in November for an early Christmas party, and will be back, in Colombo, in December, for more performances, with a pre-New Year’s Eve party at the Broadway, on 30th December.
Roger says he also takes the opportunity, whenever he visits Sri Lanka, to soak in the beauty of our country, especially the serene scenes away from the hustle and bustle of Colombo!

Roger Menezes: Fourth trip for this year
Roger Menezes is truly a remarkable talent, and it is always a sheer pleasure to look into the careers of musicians who have left such a lasting, indelible mark on Sri Lanka’s rich musical heritage.
Known for his signature “hits and memories” performance style — a nostalgic, heart-warming blend of jazz, pop, and classic rock — he remains a foundational figure of Sri Lanka’s golden era of music.
He was deeply integrated into Colombo’s swinging 1960s and 70s music scene.
He played drums for iconic groups like The Savages, Thunderbirds, and Fireflies, played guitar for Sam the Man, and joined the legendary band The Jetliners as their keyboardist, saxophonist, and guitarist (additionally recording bass guitar tracks). He also fronted his own much-loved ensemble, Roger and the Webs.
He migrated to Sydney, Australia, in the early ’70s and the legend only grew.
In Australia, he founded the highly successful corporate and event bands Eastern Spice and Stay Tuned (alongside his wife Cheryl and family). Under his leadership, Stay Tuned was heavily involved in providing entertainment for corporate functions, organised by the Sydney 2000 Olympic Committee. The group also headlined the New Year’s Eve festivities at Sydney’s iconic Centrepoint Tower for five consecutive years!
Today, he is widely celebrated as a highly adaptive one-man band, simultaneously navigating vocals, keyboards, guitar, saxophone, and drums — a one-man orchestra who truly does it all!
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